"A vampire? How is that possible?"
Ardella's voice held traces of panic and disbelief, not knowing what to think of such an incomprehensible statement. Her brothers, too, appeared stricken with dread, but lacked skepticism. As the Healer didn't seem want to say anymore, it was Damien that answered.
"You probably haven't studied it yet, but I'm sure you know how a werewolf is created?"
"Of course, the werewolf curse is passed on by a werewolf biting a witch or muggle during the full moon when they've transformed," her explanation was short and precise; she hadn't been placed in Ravenclaw for nothing.
"Yes, that's true. Do you know much about vampires?"
"No, we haven't covered anything about vampires in lessons, and I haven't researched them in my spare time."
"Well, what most people don't know is that the vampire curse is carried on the same way as the werewolves. If you're bitten by a vampire, and they don't drink enough blood to kill you, then you become one."
This statement was met with a stifling silence, no one knowing what to say in a situation such as this. The Healer and Damien were crestfallen; they had known what was coming but had hoped they were wrong. Meanwhile Dimitri tightly gripped Ardella's small, pale hand in his own larger one; hanging on as though he expected her to up and vanish at any moment. Ardella herself appeared a little green like she was about to be sick. After a moment, recognition seemed to flit across her features and the others started when she leaped up from the bed to stand before the Healer.
"Wait the goblet you gave me. It wasn't, it couldn't be," her tone was confused and desperate, hoping she wasn't right but knowing deep down that there was no other reasonable conclusion. Though she didn't voice the word, everyone knew what she had meant. Blood.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it was," the Healer shook his head in sadness and there was another bought of silence in which Ardella sunk into one of the chairs besides the bed.
"I know this is a lot to take in, and probably the last thing you want to hear after all that's happened," the medic once again twitched in apprehension, "But this means that you'll have to go to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. You'll have to register as a vampire."
If possible, this statement only made everyone more depressed. Ardella had nothing to say on this matter; she had redrawn deep within herself, trying to reason how this could be happening.
What's happened to me? I'm not even human anymore. I'm a class XXXXX creature; as dangerous as they come.
These disheartening thoughts only furthered her despair and she could do no more that sit and wonder at the current predicament. The rest of the events of the day blurred together; she faintly recalled the doctor going on about changes in physical appearance and diet before releasing her. Her brothers guided her out of St. Mungo's, both of them offering words of consolation and support, saying they would love her no matter what she was.
But it didn't help.
Nothing anybody said would help or make her feel better. Words couldn't get rid of the cold, empty void that had taken root deep inside her chest, full of darkness and shadow, which left her feeling numb and lifeless. She was a crazed, blood-thirsty beast; nothing could change that insensitive fact. Her once wonderful life was gone. Her parents were dead and Fate had seen to charge her with this cruel existence; a mockery of the life she one lived.
They soon arrived at the Sterling Manor, though Ardella didn't pay attention to how they got there, and Dimitri led her up the spiraling stairs of the West Tower all the way to the top where her room was situated. He guided her over to sit on her bed and questioned if she needed or wanted anything but was met with silence and, taking it as his cue to leave, retreated leaving Ardella to her thoughts. She continued to sit unmoving before getting up to switch off the light and blow out the candles scattered across the room. She might as well get used to the dark as she was now a creature of the night. Turning back to sit on the bed so she could contemplate her tormented thoughts, her eye caught sight of a picture on her bedside table. Picking it up, her lips twitched in a semblance of a smile as she recalled the memory.
She had been six at the time, Damien and Dimitri fourteen and eleven respectively. Both had been packing up their things, preparing to depart to Hogwarts, and she had been throwing a fit because she couldn't go. It was Dimitri's first year and she had begged and pleaded with their parents to let her go too as she didn't want to be left out. She had wailed and cried in her mother's arms as her father tried to cheer her up and distract her from her brothers while they loaded their belongings on the Hogwarts Express. After Damien and Dimitri had departed, her parents had taken her to Diagon Alley where they treated her to a day of shopping. The picture depicted her and her parents sitting at a table outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, her with ice cream smeared across her grinning face and her father laughing as his wife tried in vain to wipe it all off.
Ardella cherished the memory. Her father worked for the Ministry and it was rare for him to be able to take a day off. It was one of the few times she had been able to spend time with both of her parents outside of the house. Putting down the photograph, she took a minute to examine her room; a large circular room with high arched ceilings, indigo and sapphire, gossamer material draped across it that twinkled in an impression of the night sky. She had a small writing desk, dresser, and two tall bookshelves, not a single space open for more books. Nestled on the far side of the room was her nightstand and bed, piled high with soft pillows and goose-feather coverlets. Her mother had helped her decorate the room and together they had bedecked it in varying shades of navy, indigo, and violet, accented with the occasional cream or grey.
Thinking of her parents and all her happy memories of them brought up an unexplainable burst of rage. Grabbing the closet object, which happened to be a lamp, she threw it at the wall with every ounce of force she possessed, enjoying the resounding crash as it ruptured into thousands of minuscule, ceramic pieces. This, however, was not enough to satisfy the boiling anger and she proceeded to destroy her room; knocking over furniture, throwing objects, ripping up blankets, and tearing open pillows until she was left panting in a pile of feathers and debris. Looking around her room again it looked as if someone had conjured a tornado to spin around her room and destroy everything in its path. As she looked around, her unexplainable anger gave way to be replaced with grief and regret. Throwing herself upon her destroyed bed, she cried.
She cried for her parents and the awful predicament she was now in. She cried for all the things she never told her parents before they were taken away. But most of all, she cried for the future.
Her life was now irrevocably changed whether she wanted to admit it or not. Becoming a vampire would destroy the family name and prevent her from pursuing a good career, not that her family was in any shortage of money. She could live the rest of her life on family's fortune, but she had never wanted to. She had always wanted to get a job and make her own way, not live off her family's reputation. As for the near future, she probably would be kicked out of Hogwarts, unable to learn and train in magic with her former classmates for fear she might attack a fellow student. In every way that counted, her life was over. She would be unable to continue growing up like any normal witch or wizard, despite her brothers assurances that nothing had changed. But they were wrong. Everything has changed.
She continued to sob and wonder what the future would, or wouldn't hold for her until the early hours of the morning when she finally gave in to Hypnos's call, falling into a deep and troubled sleep where she experienced the first nightmare of many to come.
She ran through the twisted hallways of her home, the same halls she had played in and memorized when she was a small girl, only now she had no idea of her whereabouts or where she was headed, only that she must get to her destination. Briefly, she wondered why the floor was obscured by a silvery, rolling mist, but ignored it and continued on her quest. She knew not why she sprinted around corners and down stairs rather than walk and evaluate her surroundings so that she might discover where she was; she only knew that if she stopped something terrible would occur. So she continued in her rapid pace, passing numerous doors and windows, every hallway she passed the same as the one before it. Just when she was about to give up hope of finding her destination, surrendering to the fact that she would be stuck in the maze of corridors for all eternity, she heard an eerie, yet melodious voice calling in the distance.
Once full of love and laughter,
Now it does not matter.
Darkness has grasped the soul,
Preventing the heart's goal,
Of living happily ever after.
She hastened towards the nameless voice, somewhere in her mind it registered as one she knew, but she was in too much of a hurry to ponder over where she had heard it before. As she ran, faster and faster, the peculiar poem song continued, growing louder with each step but she did not listen to hear its warning.
The days have grown dark as night,
All hopes drowned in fright.
Friendless and alone,
The surroundings are unknown,
Nothing familiar in sight.
The voice was extremely close now and the fog had grown so thick she could no longer see her feet, the mist curling up and around her calves. Despite the sudden drop in temperature and the goosebumps rising on the skin of her bare arms, she dashed forward, disregarding the clear signs of danger ahead. There, at the end of the hall was a door, slightly ajar so that a soft light and fog poured into the hallway. It wasn't one that was familiar to her, but she knew it was the door she needed.
All that was loved is gone,
Never to see another dawn.
She was nearly there. The hair on her neck stood on end as she got nearer and nearer to her destination. The voice was only a few yards away and soon she would discover what was drawing her to this particular room.
Life has become a nightmare,
Reality and insanity the perfect pair.
She reached out a hand and pushed open the door to reveal who had called her to this spot just as the last verse flitted through the air.
Never again a smile shall I don.
At first she didn't see anything; the room was dark and the only light came from a single sconce on the wall. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but once it had she fervently wished they hadn't.
Bodies.
Dozens of bodies lay scattered about the room, blood splattered across every surface. The bodies were horribly mutilated, enormous gashes and wounds that showed bone, muscle, and organs; wounds too deep and serious for any spell to heal. Though the bodies were disfigured, the faces were left untouched, allowing her to see there were men and woman of every shape and color deposited around the room, each with a look of horror frozen forever on their lifeless faces. To her disgust she also identified a few smaller bodies; young children who were too innocent to deserve such a wicked fate.
Despite that each person had been torn to shreds in a different fashion, one thing about them was the same. Every neck had two, neat puncture wounds. She continued to observe all the faces before her eyes fell on a man. She felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. Amongst the carnage her eyes had landed on a man with dark curls and wide sapphire eyes, not so different from her own. Not far away lay the body of a beautiful blonde woman, mouth open in a silent scream, her blank emerald eyes transfixed on the ceiling. The sight of her parents bodies was too much, causing her to fall to her knees amongst blood and other bodily fluids as she emptied her stomach over the floor. Once she had dispelled all her stomach's contents, she sat back on her calves to look around the room, suddenly wondering where the voice had come from. Her first scan of the room proved it to hold no one but her and the bodies, but upon the second sweep she noticed a chair in a corner with a body that was different than the rest. The face was masked by shadows so she couldn't see their terror-stricken face or the wounds on the neck, but the rest of the body was splattered with crimson. Despite this, the body appeared different than the rest. She wondered what could possibly be different and then the obvious answer clicked in her mind.
The body was slathered in fresh blood, but there were no wounds.
This frightening revelation caused her to topple over backwards in surprise, the movement eliciting a bone-chilling chuckle from the corner that made her skin crawl.
"Who are you? Did you do this?"
The figured appeared amused by her nervous questions as it let out another laugh, but did not give an answer. Taking this to mean that they were responsible for the gruesome carnage in front of her, she inquired after the stranger again.
"Why did you do it? How could you do something so terrible?"
The familiar voice answered.
"I didn't do this."
"What do you mean? Of course you did. You're covered in blood but don't have a scratch on you," she tried to reason with them, after all there was no other explanation. They, however seemed to disagree.
"I didn't do this."
"Yes, you did, you monster! You murdered these people in cold blood," she felt anger welling up inside her and carefully stood up on shaky legs. "You killed children. How can you live with yourself?"
Once again the voice repeated:
"I didn't do this."
"You liar! If you didn't do it, who did?"
The stranger leaned forward a bit in the chair, allowing her to see the bottom half of the face, a disturbingly crazed grin stretched across it. The grin set off alarms in her head, and every instinct she had told her to flee from the room and not look back, but she didn't move. She was frozen in place, unable to move even if she wished it, and deep down some part of her wanted to see what kind of person could commit such a heinous act. The figure grasped the arms of the chair before pushing off to stand completely in the light cast by the lone candle. Her face turned from one of anger to disbelief and horror as she took in the stranger and she fell back on the floor in, unable to speak when they answered her question.
"You did."
Standing before her was an almost perfect replica of herself; petite figure, pale skin, and long ebony locks. Despite the obvious similarity, there were some differences. The nails were tapered to long points, no doubt able to rip through flesh and muscle, and blood was smeared around a smirking mouth that revealed long, sharp fangs. But most noticeable were the eyes.
The color of fresh blood, they glowed in the darkness and had a crazed look in them. This person couldn't possibly be her, no matter what they claimed.
"You-you're lying," her voice had lost its previous strength and conviction; the uncanny resemblance making her question her thoughts. The stranger (she refused to believe it was her) seemed to find the whole thing humorous as she tipped back her head to release another unsettling shriek of laughter.
"Pathetic," she commented, "I am what you will become. Soon you'll discover your foolish morals and ideals of what's right and wrong are useless. The only thing that matters in this world is how strong you are. You have to let go of your old self and embrace the new, more powerful you."
Ardella shook her head back and forth. She couldn't, wouldn't, believe this maniac.
"No, no. You're lying."
"Think what you will, it'll only be a matter of time until you give in." She gave another chuckle as Ardella continued her muttered denial.
"No, no," the sinister laughter filled the room, mocking the dead, frightened faces.
"NO!"
Tears sprang from tightly squeezed eyelids as she twisted, and writhed on the floor.
"Ardella, what happened? Ardella!"She felt a hand grasp her shoulder, frantically shaking her. She let out a shrill scream, fearing her other self had decided to get rid of her.
"No, no! Leave me alone!"
"Ardella!" Hands grabbed her shoulders and legs, pushing her flat on her back so that she could no longer thrash about. Releasing a piercing scream, her eyes flew open, wildly darting back and forth in a frantic search for an escape.
Despite the fact that her eyes were now open, she didn't see the world in front of her; Damien and Dimitri concurrently trying to wake her and prevent her from hurting herself on the wreckage still spread throughout the room. All she could see was her nightmare. Dead bodies littered everywhere, their terrified faces warning her if she didn't flee soon her fate would be the same. She could still envision the frightful image of herself, deranged and blood-thirsty; sardonic laughter echoing within her mind.
She continued in her fit for many more minutes before her screams became shorter, her breath labored and vision fuzzy at the lack of oxygen. Foregoing her shrieks to gulp in as much air as possible, it wasn't much longer before her surrounding began to come into focus; bodies reforming into broken furniture and the laughter dying down to a cruel whisper. Ardella now saw her brothers, hovering worriedly over her and asking if she was alright. The only thing that remained from the nightmare was her other self, standing on the far side of the room, a contemptuous smirk painted on her lips. She gave one last grin, showing sharpened canines stained with blood, before she too faded into shadow.
Her brothers hadn't asked her what she had dreamed or why her room was in shambles. Dimitri just sat with her on her bed, holding her in a tight embrace and whispering that everything would be alright as Damien waved and flicked his wand, returning the room to its previous state. No one spoke as they all huddled into Ardella's king sized bed, holding on to one another in shared grief for all that had happened over the past few days.
Ardella experienced more nightmares as the days went by, sometimes seeing her parents and other times wandering through foggy wilderness. However, one element was present in all her dreams; her other self. No matter the location, The Demon, as she had come to call it, was always there wearing that deranged smirk and slathered in fresh blood. Some nights she taunted Ardella with promises that soon Ardella would give in to her blood-cravings, and other times she simply followed her wherever she went; a constant reminder that she would always be present. Though they were always horrid and led her to wake screaming, her nightmares soon became less frequent and Ardella occasionally had nights that were blissfully dream-free.
Two weeks after she was released from St. Mungo's, Lysander and Valissa were properly buried. Many people came to grieve the loss of the two high-standing wizards who, despite their wealth and blood status, were uncommonly generous and kind. In fact, the Weasleys, who many pure-blooded wizarding families considered blood-traitors, had always been good friends with the Sterlings and had attended the funeral. Ardella had always been on good terms with the Weasley children, particularly the twins, but she spent the majority of the funeral avoiding them all; she was simply too depressed and melancholy to be around them, especially when she knew they'd try to cheer her up. However, despite her attempts, Ardella had run into Ron, who was in her year. She briefly spoke with him and, though he wasn't the most tactful person, he offered his condolences and said he hoped to see her when school started again. This comment had left Ardella speechless. How could she have forgotten? Surely Hogwarts would never accept a vampire. Nodding her head and muttering something about hoping to see him as well, she made a quick excuse about finding her brothers before retreating to the Manor, for the moment wishing to be alone. In spite of her nightmares lessening and her coming to terms with her parents' deaths, one matter wasn't improving. If anything, it was only worsening.
Her skin had become so pale it was well on its way to being translucent; turquoise and purple veins extraordinarily visible on her wrists as well as the creases of her elbows and knees. Nails, once prone to breaking and chipping, now grew at an alarming rate and were durable and perfectly shaped; any woman would be jealous of such perfect nails that required no manicures. Her hair seemed to grow just as fast as her nails and had become thick and full, the beautifully glossy strands now nearly to her waist. Her beautiful sapphire eyes, the same as her father's and Damien's, had also changed, now an eerie shade of violet. As each day passed the violet blocked out the blue and Ardella feared one morning she would look in the mirror to find blood-red irises staring back at her.
Besides her outward appearance, other changes had also occurred. Her sight, though never having required glasses, had increased tenfold. She could now see further and better, even in poor lighting. Her hearing and sense of smell had also improved; often times she could hear people's footfalls and smell them long before they reached her. She also seemed to not require as much sleep or food as she used to. She now only slept a few hours but, under the constant watch of her brothers, was always forced to consume three full meals each day. Both Damien and Dimitri seemed to believe Ardella was wasting away and insisted that she ate hearty meals, but it did little good as she was still slim. However the most disturbing change was while she continued to eat all the foods she used too, it no longer filled her. It seemed no matter what she ate, there was always that faint burn in her throat. Never was it as strong as the day she had woke in the hospital, but it was always there; an irritating itch that couldn't be scratched.
Ardella knew it was caused by her body's desire for blood. She hadn't consumed any since the day the Healer had given some to her as a confirmation of her condition, but she could still envision it in her mind. Her very soul craved the wonderful liquid that all at once set her body on fire and cooled the burn. Blood for her was like a drug; one that she was helplessly and irreversibly addicted to.
In order to solve this dilemma without killing people, she had made arrangements with St. Mungo's, who would send bags of donated blood. The hospital could only keep blood for so long before it was deemed expired and rather than throw it out, they would send it to her and others in her situation. While organizing this deal, the Healer had also mentioned that she would have to train her body to resist blood to an extent so, with the proper control, she would only require a blood supply once every month. To begin her training, Ardella had searched through the Sterling library, grabbing everything and anything that had to do with vampires. She also had Dimitri bringing home dozens of book each day from Flourish and Blott's, where he conveniently worked, her help her cause. She spent hours on end locked away in her room, surrounded by a small library of books and tomes as she researched everything she could get her hands on. In the past two weeks, she had discovered quite a bit.
Contrary to popular belief, vampires did not burst to flames when in sunlight. Though it was a bit uncomfortable, as Ardella had learned firsthand, sunlight did nothing more than make a vampire a bit drowsy and lethargic. Also, vampires were not affected by garlic, holy water, or sacred ground. Nor did they sleep in coffins or require an invitation to enter someone's home. They were not immortal, though they did have some resilience to magic due to their durable skin and tended to live quite a long time, even according to wizard's standards. She had a reflection and she wasn't part of the living dead. It seemed that many beliefs about vampires had been nothing more than superstitious muggle nonsense. In fact, the only thing they had gotten right was the blood drinking. Although, Ardella secretly suspected that they may have been right about one other thing. How could something the required the blood of others to live, possess a soul? The first time she had mentioned it to her brothers they had quickly dismissed the matter. They claimed that the fact that she considered herself monstrous (though they quickly shot down that suggestion as well) was proof enough that she had a soul.
"After all," Dimitri remarked, sounding every bit the Ravenclaw he had been, "a soul-less being wouldn't care about morals and the differences between right and wrong. "
The way he had worded it immediately took her back to what The Demon had told her in her nightmare.
"Soon you'll discover your foolish morals and ideals of what's right and wrong are useless. The only thing that matters in this world is how strong you are. You have to let go of your old self and embrace the new, more powerful you."
Ardella didn't believe this was coincidence, but shoved these thoughts to the back of her mind, instead agreeing with her brothers' logic if only to shut them up. But she was unable to stop thinking about what The Demon had said and deep down inside she still believed she was an abomination unworthy to live among those with their souls still intact.
A week or two after the Sterlings' funeral, Damien informed Ardella over breakfast that she'd be going to work with him that day.
"I've pushed the appointment back as far as possible, but if we don't get you registered soon we'll have more trouble than we can handle."
Ardella nodded, struck silent by the realization that she would now be, in the view of the magical community, a being that must be registered so that the Ministry could keep an eye on her. If anything, this only reinforced her suspicions that she no longer belonged among other witches and wizards. Dimitri, the more sensitive of her brothers, immediately picked up on her sudden depression.
"Yeah, I think I'll take the morning off and go with you two." He received a puzzled look from Damien who, despite being a loving and wonderful brother, wasn't exactly quick on the uptake. Ardella gave a small smile, grateful for Dimitri's intuition and amused by Damien's cluelessness.
So the three of them quickly finished off their breakfasts and then used the Floo Network which transported them directly to the Atrium of the Ministry. Ardella hadn't been to the Ministry since she was a young girl and took a moment to look around. The walls and floors were constructed of beautiful dark wood that was polished so that you could nearly see your reflection in it. The walls were lined with many fireplaces, where they had just emerged, and looking up at the blue ceiling, Ardella saw strange golden symbols dancing across it which were continuously changing. In the middle of the hall was a large golden fountain that depicted a wizard surrounded by a witch, goblin, centaur, and house-elf.
Damien led them left of the fountain to a small security desk where there sat a decidedly bored-looking wizard.
"Names and business," he drawled, clearly not finding his job to be interesting. Ardella and Dimitri gave their names (Damien was exempt as he worked at the Ministry) and the wizard punched some buttons on a small box-like contraption. It sputtered a moment before depositing two silver badges with their names on them, which the two pinned on their robes.
"Alright, little lady, you first. Stand o'er here, please," the wizard's voice and actions seemed to be automatic. After doing the same thing every day, things probably became mechanical. Standing to the side of the security desk, the wizard ran a thin, golden rod in front of and behind Ardella. Apparently passing the inspection, she stepped aside and the process was repeated on Dimitri.
"Okay, now I need ya' wands."
He took both and one by one, placed them in a dish that then produced a sort of blueprint of their wands. After confirming the information to be correct, the bored wizard returned their wands and told them they were free to continue.
Finished with security, Damien guided them to a side hall where they quickly shoved their way into one of the many lifts. As they headed to the correct floor, Ardella tried her distract herself and looked up to observe a number of lavender paper airplanes marked MINISTRY hovering in the lift, coming and going as they stopped at each floor. They stayed on the lift until they reached level four. A melodious woman's voice sounded as the elevator stopped.
"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."
They seemed to be the only ones getting off on this floor, so they politely squirmed through the crowd of witches and wizards to exit the lift. They walked down a few hallways, twisting left and right and after a while Ardella found herself thinking that she wouldn't have been able to find her way back out alone if she'd tried. A moment later found them standing outside a door marked Being Division. Her stomach began to twist and turn into convoluted knots and she suddenly found herself extremely nervous and jittery.
"Good mornin'," a small plump witch behind a desk greeted merrily once they entered the office, "What can I help you folks with today?"
"We need to talk with someone from Vampire Registration."
"Ah, down the hallway on your left. Follow it all the way to the end and you'll find the office."
The witch's tone was still pleasant as if she wasn't disgusted by the knowledge that one of the individuals in front of her was a blood-thirsty beast. In fact, when Ardella walked past the desk, the lady wordlessly offered her a basket full of lollipops with a kind smile on her face. Wondering if the woman thought her a child, but not wanting to be rude, Ardella took one of the suckers, attempting a nervous grin.
"Don't worry, dearie, you'll be just fine," the secretary gave a reassuring grin and then gestured for Ardella to follow her brothers. She briefly wondered how the witch had known she was the vampire, but figured her white skin and violet eyes gave her away. As she scurried to catch up with her brothers' long strides, she glanced down at the sucker in her grasp and had to clap a hand over mouth to prevent bursting into uncontrollable giggles. The witch had given her a Blood-flavored Lollipop. Grinning at the secretary's humor, she quickly slipped it into her robe pocket for later and briefly wondered if a vampire could satisfy their blood cravings on blood pops alone. I'll have to test that theory later. Her thoughts were interrupted as they reached a door labeled Vampire Registration.
Feeling some of her anxiety return she quietly hoped that whoever was in charge of registering vampires was as kind and light-hearted as the secretary. However, once Damien opened the door to reveal an elderly, stern-faced wizard, she highly doubted it. The short, graying man was dressed in plain black robes with a pair of small, round spectacles perched on his nose and was buried behind towers of precariously stacked papers that looked as though one wrong move would send them all tumbling to the floor.
"Hello, we're here to register my sister," Damien addressed the wizard, who looked up from a pile of documents to scrutinize the people in his office over the top of his spectacles.
"Well of course you are," the wizard's voice was as abrupt and stern as his appearance foreshadowed. "Why else would you be here if not to register a vampire, huh?"
Obviously taken aback by the severe tone, Damien open and closed his mouth, searching for something to say.
"Don't just stand there gaping like a fish, boy! Let's get this over with. I have things to do that don't include being stared at like a circus sideshow."
"Oh, no- I didn't mean-," he stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Fortunately, Dimitri spoke up to save the eldest Sterling from anymore scathing remarks.
"Of course, sir. Just show us what we need to do and then we'll be out of your way as soon as possible."
The wizard, Demetrius Creswell according to the nameplate on his desk, shuffled through stacks of papers whilst muttering something about "this one at least has some sense." Ardella quickly stifled a giggle as Dimitri threw a delighted grin in his brother's direction. Resigning to the fact that it'd be best if he didn't say anything else, Damien headed over to wait in one of the chairs lined against the wall.
"Ah-ha," Creswell poked his head out from the mountain of paperwork, gripping a small stack of papers in his fist. "Here we are."
They then spent the next hour going over various forms and oaths that the Ministry deemed necessary in order to protect muggles and wizards alike. By the time it was all completed, Ardella had copied statements, initialed agreements, and signed her name on dozens of legal forms. Mr. Creswell had carefully observed her signing each paper and, deeming them legitimate, stacked them nicely in a manila folder marked Sterling, Ardella L.
"Right, now all that's left is for two witness forms to verify that she has done this properly and legally."
Damien, who had spent the entire hour sitting quietly in a chair, tentatively stepped forward and snatched the three page packet before Mr. Creswell could find fault in him and began to fill it out as Dimitri completed the other. As their forms were considerably shorter, it was only another ten minutes before Mr. Creswell added the two packets to the folder and filed it away in one of the many cabinets scattered throughout the office. He then shooed them out, reiterating his previous statement of other things to attend to.
The Sterling siblings obliged, and headed back out through the maze of hallways, Ardella waving to the cheery secretary on the way out, feeling much more optimistic and joyous than she had that morning. Apparently registering as a vampire wasn't as terrible as she had thought; no one had avoided her like the plague, sneered at her in repulsion, nor shot scornful glares in her direction. Maybe her brothers were right; maybe things wouldn't be so bad.
Shuffling towards the lifts, Damien bade them a quick goodbye before stepping on one that would take him to level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, where he worked as an Obliviator. Dimitri and Ardella stepped on a separate lift, riding all the way down until they reached the Atrium and depositing their badges at the security's desk before using one of the many gilded fireplaces to return to Sterling Manor.
Ardella had just stepped into the drawing room, dusting soot off her robe when a house-elf wearing a pillow sheet like a toga walked in the room with an envelope.
"Miss Sterling," Ardella turned towards the elf upon hearing the squeaky voice. "A letter has come while Miss was away."
"Thank you, Twinkle." Ardella took the letter from the house-elf and turned to sit on a one of the chaise lounges as Dimitri toppled out of the fireplace. Shaking his blond head to rid it of ashes, he inquired who the letter was from.
"I have no idea. Perhaps Lyra sent me a letter," she mused; her best friend and roommate the only person she could think that would send her a letter. Glancing down at the envelope, she nearly dropped it when she saw the familiar emerald-green writing. This was it. This letter would confirm her fears of being expelled. No more would she ride the Hogwarts Express to arrive at the magnificent castle that never ceased to amaze her. No more would she wander the marble hallways and learn about charms, potions, and transfiguration.
Though her spirits had been lifted from the pleasant trip to the Ministry, it was naŃ—ve of her to believe that Dumbledore would risk his student's safety by admitting a vampire into the school.
"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Dimitri questioned, giving his sister a puzzled look.
"Yes," her soft voice quivered, "Yes, of course."
Deciding it was best to just get this over with as soon as possible, she broke the purple, wax seal embossed with the Hogwarts crest, and pulled out four sheets of parchment. Her jaw dropped open when she looked at the first one, which read:
Dear Miss Sterling,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.
A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor M. McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Surely this must be some sort of mistake. Dimitri asked what was wrong, but she ignored him, quickly looking over the next parchment. As the previous letter had said, it was a list of books that she would need for the new school year which listed titles like: Unfogging the Future, Intermediate Transfiguration, and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three. Quickly flipping to the next sheet, she discovered a permission form for visiting Hogsmeade, which had also been mentioned in the first letter. However, there was still one more parchment. Unfolding it, she discovered a note written in a thin, slanting script.
Dear Miss Sterling,
I am terribly sorry to hear news of your loss and offer my condolences. Lysander and Valissa were among the finest students I had the pleasure of teaching.
I would like to conduct a meeting before the school term starts so that we might discuss your personal problem. At that time we can also make arrangements for you during the school year to attend to your special diet.
Please send your reply with a date for the meeting.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
To say she was shocked would be an understatement. Dumbledore actually wanted to admit her back to school, despite her vampirism? Her confusion and disbelief overwhelming, Ardella leaned back into the soft cushions of the lounge and wordlessly passed the parchment to a very bemused Dimitri who had been hovering over her, impatiently trying to see what the envelope contained.